


raindrops on roses

by jjokkiri



Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fantasy elements, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, arguably this has elements of hanahaki, but it's not, flowers grow on them to represent heartache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: For the entirety of humankind, there existed a mysterious phenomenon alongside falling in love, alongside feeling something deeply with the heart—pretty, white flowers mysteriously bloomed on the skin in response to heartache.For Kim Yohan, the pretty petals bloomed on his wrist when he was in high school.
Relationships: Han Seungwoo/Kim Yohan, Kim Wooseok | Wooshin/Kim Yohan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	raindrops on roses

For the entirety of humankind, there existed a mysterious phenomenon alongside falling in love, alongside feeling something deeply with the heart. And no matter how long it was studied, it was something that science simply couldn’t explain. But whether or not it was something that could be explained in its entirety, it was known that pretty, white flowers mysteriously bloomed on the skin in response to _heartache_.

For Kim Yohan, the pretty petals bloomed on his wrist when he was in high school.

He could remember it vividly: the first petal’s bloom felt like a sharp, burning sensation that lasted mere seconds. For a few seconds of his life, there was an excruciating burning sensation that he simply couldn’t ignore. At the time, he had flinched and grabbed at his own wrist before he looked down and noticed there was a petal tattooed onto his wrist; difficult to hide, impossible to remove. 

In high school, there were too many people who paid close attention to him, there were too many people who were a little too interested in a life that wasn’t their own. So, they immediately noticed when Yohan started wearing sweatbands on his wrists. They immediately asked questions and Yohan squirmed under their prying eyes; a nervous laugh and a weakly whispered excuse, _‘oh, you know, I’m an athlete.’_

It got harder to hide when they began to bloom up from his wrist, beyond the stretch of the sweatband and up his forearm. The sleeves on the shirts that Yohan wore became longer and longer. 

Even in spring, he wore long-sleeved shirts to hide the white flowers scattered on the surface of his left arm.

_“Yohan-ah, aren’t you hot? It’s so warm out today and you’re wearing that?”_

Kim Wooseok waited for him at his doorstep so they could walk to school together. 

Simply put, everything about Kim Wooseok was _lovely_. Three years his senior, Wooseok had been the kind neighbour who got Yohan accustomed to moving to a new city after finishing middle school. Wooseok had been the one to help Yohan become accustomed to high school. 

Every single day, Wooseok waited for Yohan on his doorstep so they could walk to school together. 

On a warm, spring morning, Wooseok wore a short-sleeved shirt and his uniform blazer was thrown over his shoulder. Yohan’s heart clenched uncomfortably in his chest, almost envious of the unblemished skin of Wooseok’s arms—the evidence of someone who had yet to learn the feeling of heartache.

Yohan managed a weak smile at Wooseok as he walked down his driveway without sparing the senior student another glance. Wooseok followed after Yohan. He said, “I think I’m getting sick, hyung. The seasons are changing. I think it’s starting to get to me. I don’t want to catch a cold.”

(He couldn’t keep up his weak excuses but Wooseok stopped asking questions about it even when Yohan continued to wear long sleeves through the summer months.)

And over the years, the excruciating burn that came with the blooming of little flowers on his wrist turned into something that he couldn’t even notice anymore. Over the years, he became accustomed to the way that it would hurt every time that Kim Wooseok smiled at him. 

And every single time he looked into his neighbour’s glittering eyes, he was struck with the realization that Wooseok would never look at him the same way that he looked at him. 

With a heavy heart and an uncountable number of flowers blooming on his arm, he became accustomed to what it felt like to love someone knowing that he would never get anything in return.

It only got worse.

_“Yohan-ah! I want you to meet my boyfriend,”_ Wooseok’s eyes glittered when he grabbed onto Yohan’s hands with a bright smile on his lips. Yohan felt the burn on his shoulder. For the first time in years, it _hurt_ when he felt the burn of another flower blooming on his skin.

He smiled weakly at Wooseok. “Of course. I’d love to meet him, hyung.”

(Wooseok’s boyfriend was tall, handsome and had a smile bright enough to rival the sun. Wooseok’s boyfriend was equally as kind as Wooseok. He was only a few months older than Wooseok and he held his hand tightly wherever they went. And Yohan reminded himself that he could never be the one who held Wooseok’s hand.)

And even when Kim Wooseok was no longer a major part of his life, even when Wooseok moved away from the house right beside Yohan’s, the flowers continued to bloom on his skin. Even when he insisted that he was over Wooseok, Wooseok would send him a text message from all the way across the ocean and Yohan would feel the telltale burn somewhere on his arm. 

The last flower that bloomed for Wooseok was on his shoulderblade, just above all the other identical flowers on his sleeve of heartache. It bloomed on the night that Wooseok happily announced, through the screen of Yohan’s laptop, that he was getting married to his boyfriend of five years. Yohan grit his teeth through the pain when he whispered his _‘congratulations, hyung. I hope you’re happy with him.’_

* * *

At twenty-two, Yohan still wore long-sleeved shirts to cover up the flowers that bloomed for Wooseok. A part of him hated the mosaic of flowers on his arm, the reminder that he was once so in love with someone that could never love him in the same way. He hated the way that he let it affect him so much that he felt uncomfortable whenever he wasn’t wearing a long-sleeved shirt and the flowers were visible to prying eyes.

He felt ashamed of it, to the point that he couldn’t even be honest about it when his heart forgot about Kim Wooseok and led him to fall in love with someone else. 

_Han Seungwoo was a dream come true._ Han Seungwoo was five years older than him—a kind man who played the role of Yohan’s manager at his office job—and he carried an air of wisdom with him that drew Yohan in. He was warm smiles and gentle hugs. He was the comfort that Yohan needed from the spiralling storm that was his heart. And Yohan never wanted to let go of him. 

Being with Seungwoo was comfortable, _dreamy_. Being with Seungwoo made him forget that love could be so hard. It made him forget about the reason that he was so accustomed to wearing long-sleeved shirts. 

Seungwoo never asked him about his strange preference for long-sleeved sweaters, even when the weather got a lot warmer and it didn’t make sense for Yohan to keep wearing long-sleeved shirts. So, for the first five months of their blooming relationship, Yohan forgot about the tragic story behind the sleeve of white flowers decorating his arm. For five months, they were just flowers.

It all came back to him the first time Seungwoo’s kisses led to something more and the older man gently pushed him back down against his bed. It all came back to him when Seungwoo’s slender fingers followed the trail of his gentle kisses and slipped the soft material of his shirt off of his shoulder. Seungwoo gasped.

Yohan’s eyes snapped open, _wide_ , the shock of Seungwoo’s gasp viciously dragging him out of his whirlwind of bliss. He gasped and his hands moved automatically. His hands covered up the flowers that were peeking out from where his shirt had fallen off his shoulder.

_“Oh, no.”_

“Yohan…?” Seungwoo looked at him from underneath his long bangs, his eyes wide. There was an underlying hurt somewhere in his eyes, buried deep underneath the concern. 

There were a million unspoken questions dancing at the tip of his tongue, a million questions that could never all come spilling out in the right order, and Yohan knew it. _He knew Seungwoo._ He _knew_ that Seungwoo would immediately assume the worst because Yohan was hiding it—he would assume it was his fault.

Yohan exhaled a deep breath and sat up on Seungwoo’s bed. He did his best to keep his voice even as he kept his gaze focused somewhere behind Seungwoo. “It’s not your fault, hyung.”

Self-conscious of the way he felt so exposed when the flowers were out in the open air, Yohan pulled the collar of his shirt back up to cover the flowers. He looked away from Seungwoo, unable to meet the older man’s eyes. There was a pang of ugly guilt that clawed at his stomach.

There was hesitation in Seungwoo’s eyes. _A flicker of confusion, sadness, and then decisiveness._

The older man quietly shifted on the bed and moved off Yohan. He picked up his own shirt from off of the floor and slipped back into it. He left the buttons undone. The silence was thick.

Quietly, Seungwoo took a seat at the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. Yohan brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling small. He stared at the satin sheets of Seungwoo’s bed as if it could distract him from the conversation.

Seungwoo looked at Yohan. “It’s not my fault?”

Yohan nodded his head, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do this to me, I promise.”

The older man moved a little closer to Yohan, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. He gently placed his hand on Yohan’s shoulder and slipped the fabric off of his shoulder again. This time, Yohan let him. 

The soft material of his shirt fell down to his elbow, caught at the bend of his arm. The sadness in Seungwoo’s eyes seemed to multiply with every additional flower that revealed itself to his eyes. 

Seungwoo’s fingers gently traced the petals on his skin, delicate as if he thought he would hurt him. 

His voice was quiet, _soft._ “Who did this to you, baby?” 

Yohan swallowed. _He couldn’t blame Wooseok for it. Wooseok didn’t owe him anything._

He looked down at his hands.

“Me,” he replied, quietly. “I did it to myself.”

Seungwoo’s strong arms pulled Yohan into his lap. The older man wrapped his free arm around Yohan’s waist and lifted Yohan into his lap. He leaned back against his headboard with Yohan sitting on him and he sighed. At the sound of air escaping Seungwoo’s lips, the nervousness in Yohan’s chest spiked. 

The truth was that Kim Wooseok wasn’t a major part of his life anymore but he felt strange guilt bubbling in his chest because he had unintentionally hidden a critical part of himself from the man he claimed to love.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you, hyung,” he said, unable to meet the older man’s gaze. Yohan’s eyes remained downcast. Seungwoo shook his head. He brushed Yohan’s bangs out of his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” Seungwoo whispered. He tilted Yohan’s chin up, making him look him in the eyes. “You know that I’m not worried about who was a part of your past, right? You said that you love me and I believe you.”

Yohan paused. He swallowed his guilt and bit down on his lower lip.

“But, hyung… I hid something from you,” he murmured. 

Seungwoo offered him a small smile, fragile. He traced the corner of Yohan’s lips with his thumb, a wordless attempt to soothe his boyfriend’s worries.

“You did. But what matters to me isn’t that you hid something from me, Yohan,” he said. Seungwoo’s fingers traced the curve of Yohan’s shoulder. His fingers lingered and his eyes found Yohan’s; _sincere_. “What matters is that I should know what it means for us, now. I won’t let something that you felt in the past be what defines how you feel now if I don’t have to. Yohan, are these flowers something that I should be worried about?”

Yohan looked down at his hands. He shook his head.

“They bloomed for someone who isn’t in my life anymore,” he replied. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “They’re for someone who got married a year ago, hyung. It’s not something that you need to worry about.”

Seungwoo nodded his head, solemnly. The sadness in his eyes looked like pity.

But there was something freeing about being able to tell someone about the feelings he had for Wooseok. There was something freeing about being able to tell someone after so many years of burying it and keeping all of his feelings hidden deep in his chest. _And for it to be someone as understanding as Seungwoo?_ It was almost cathartic and Yohan couldn’t be more grateful for Han Seungwoo—for his _boyfriend_.

He looked up at him from underneath long lashes, innocent. 

Yohan nudged his boyfriend gently with a pout on his lips, “I only have eyes for you, hyung.”

“Okay,” he said. Yohan continued to stare at him with wide eyes.

There was a beat of silence.

Seungwoo bit back a quiet laugh, “Yohan, you can stop making that face. You’re looking at me like a kicked puppy. I won’t worry about things that I don’t have to worry about.”

Yohan’s pout only grew. 

Instinctively, his hands cupped Seungwoo’s face and he rested his forehead against the older man’s. 

Yohan resisted the urge to whine at his boyfriend. He squirmed in Seungwoo’s lap, “You say that like you’re not upset at me for hiding it from you, but you’re calling me _‘Yohan’_?”

Seungwoo’s lips quirked into an amused smile.

“That’s your name, baby,” he replied. 

He wrapped his arms tightly around Yohan’s waist and lifted him off of his lap. Seungwoo hovered over his boyfriend when he laid Yohan back down against his bed. 

He smiled down at him. “I know that you feel bad that you’ve hidden it from me for so long but it doesn’t matter, okay? I’m not mad at you. I’m a little hurt that you reacted the way that you did but that doesn’t mean that I’m upset with you.” He took a breath, “I might not know what it feels like to harbour all of these feelings to yourself for so long, but I understand that it can be a little bit shocking to suddenly reveal a part of yourself like that.” Seungwoo brushed Yohan’s bangs out of his eyes, “It’s okay, baby. I love you the same.”

Yohan squirmed underneath Seungwoo, suddenly flustered at his words. He covered his face with his hands.

“ _Hyung,_ I love you too.”

The older man responded to Yohan’s shy confession by leaning down to press a soft kiss to the soft skin of his shoulder where the flowers began to mark his skin. 

Soft and affectionate, Seungwoo brushed his lips against Yohan’s soft skin. And then, the kisses scattered—a constellation of little kisses from his shoulder blade to the base of his neck. 

Yohan melted in his boyfriend’s arms, the soft touches of Seungwoo’s lips blooming an affectionate warmth in his chest. And playfully, Seungwoo nipped at the sensitive skin of Yohan’s neck.

A soft sigh left Yohan’s lips, pleased.

Seungwoo’s eyes glinted with mischief when he looked up at Yohan. 

His lips pulled into a smirk, “ _Hm_ , should we continue where we left off, baby?”

Yohan’s cheeks burned red. He squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he managed to utter. 

Seungwoo chuckled and shrugged his shirt off. The material of his shirt fell against the satin sheets, revealing soft skin decorated with a plethora of intricate tattoos. Yohan stared at his boyfriend’s body.

Seungwoo leaned down to catch his lips in a soft kiss. He smiled against his lips.

He whispered, “Say the word and I’m all yours, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/yuseokki) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjokkiri) ♡  
> i would die for seunghan.


End file.
